Everything About You
by Sofa King Danny
Summary: When Cartman announces that he's moving, Kyle fears change and begins to question his feelings. He has a month to sort it out before his lifelong rival will be gone for good. Slash, Kyle's POV. DISCONTINUED.


Well, a few people have requested that I write a chaptered Kyle/Cartman fic, so I decided to go for it. I'm pretty nervous about posting this, so I'd really like some feedback to know if people are liking it or not. Please try to review, even if you don't have a lot to say.

And I finally found a divider that ffnet doesn't kill when I upload :D

o o o

Chapter One  
"Without You"

Lunch time.

"Hey, Jewboy."

...He's trying to get my attention. I scowl, even though it's really nothing new. Cartman and I fight all the time. We're constantly at each other's throats. That's the way it's always been. I honestly can't imagine it being any other way, can't imagine life without my nemesis. I'm sure it would be a better life, just not one I can envision.

"What?" I ask. I know he's just going to say something stupid to try to get me riled up, but this is just another tradition.

"You've got ass on your face." He grins. "...No, wait, that _is _your face!"

See? I knew it. Stupid. I kick his leg from under the table and grin back as he emits a sharp "Ow! That hurt, you son of a bitch!"

"Don't call my mom a bitch," I growl, kicking him again, harder. He kicks me back, but I prevent from flinching like he did. I'm winning.

Kenny puts his sandwich down and sighs. "Can you guys please stop fighting?" he pleads, the words muffled through his coat but understandable to his friends.

"Yeah," Stan agrees, taking a sip of his milk. "It used to be funny, but now we're sixteen and it's just goddamn annoying."

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm not _entertaining_ you, Stan!" Fatass scoffs. "How 'bout I kick you in the nuts? Is _that_ funny enough for you?"

I hate to admit it, but he's kind of right, in a way. We don't exist to keep Stan amused. Still, though, he's our friend and if he wants us to stop, we should at least _try _to respect his wishes.

"No way, dude!" Stan replies.

"So I have to do more to make it funny to you. How 'bout I rip your balls off and shove them down your throat? That better?" He shoves a donut in his mouth, which seems to accentuate his point somehow.

"I didn't mean that!"

That feels wrong. That sounds like something Lardbutt should have said to _me. _I don't know why I care. I guess I don't. It just seems out of place, is all. It's not like I'm jealous of something so stupid.

Cartman turns to me. "Oh, hey. Star of Douche." Is that supposed to be a pun on "Star of David?" That doesn't even make sense. What a dumbass.

There, that's better.

...No, not "better." It's right, it's normal, but it's still bad. Our rivarly has gotten so intense over the years, with physical fighting nearly everyday. No one in their right mind would call that a good thing. It's just what I'm used to. That's all.

"What is it, Ass Parade?" I ask, feeling obligated to pay him back with an insult of my own. No, not obligated. Motivated. I want to win. I want to beat him at everything. I take a small, delicate bite of my salisbury steak to counter the way he's been shoveling food into his mouth. We exist to contradict each other, it seems.

"I'm finally getting out of this shitty-ass town."

I lose my grip and nearly drop my fork. What did he say? No, it must have been my wishful thinking causes me to hear wrong. He's not _really _moving. He can't be. Can he?

"That's right, I'm moving."

"You're moving?" Stan asks cheerfully. Kenny doesn't say anything, not that he speaks much to begin with.

"You're _moving!_" I blurt out, more shocked than anything. This isn't possible. He's been here all my life. If he leaves, something will be missing. But... it will be something I don't want. I'm better off without it. Without him.

...Right?

"Yep, I'm getting away from all you assholes and you three will have to stay here with all the jerkoffs."

"I gathered that," I spit, genuinely annoyed with him. I don't like it when people repeat themselves. That's the only reason. "_Why_ are you moving?"

"My mom needs to relocate for her job."

"Your mom doesn't have a job!" I shout.

"She gets paid to be a whore," Stan reminds me.

"Oh!" I snap, "So she's slept with everyone in South Park and needs to 'relocate' to find new sex objects, is that it?"

"AY! It's not any of your goddamn business what her job is! The point is, I'm leaving in a month, so you can just kiss my ass goodbye!" He grins at me evilly. "Go on, give it a little kiss."

I shudder. He's alluding to a night long ago when I literally kissed his ass because it was the only way he would agree to help us rescue some baby cows. I had been trying to repress that memory, but he had to go and ruin it. I swear I'm going to be having nightmares about that now.

I quickly throw out a "Fuck you, assmaster!" as the bell rings and we all head off to our respective classes, my head spinning.

It's funny how even good changes are hard to accept.

ooo

For the entirety of the next period, I can't stop thinking about Cartman. Without him around, I'll have no one to compete with, no one to take my anger out on, to insult when I'm in a bad mood. I could still badmouth him when he's gone, but where's the fun in that if he doesn't get to hear it? Besides, it would seem... obsessive to complain about someone who isn't even there to bother me any more. I keep thinking about all the fights we've had, all the times we've been determined to beat each other. The memories play in my mind until finally, it's time for science, the last class of the day, and one I have with the fatass.

As soon as I enter the classroom, Porkbelly runs up and hugs me tightly.

...Erk. I twitch. "Uh... Cartman..."

He pulls away quickly and grins stupidly. "Oh, I'm sorry Kyle, I couldn't help myself. You're just so _huggable._" Lie. He's up to something.

I see a flash of green in his hands when he sits back down, and I freeze. Slowly, I reach into a hand into my pocket. It's empty. There was money there before. How much? I think it was five dollars. Not a big loss. I decide to let him keep it; I'll get him back for this later.

I take my assigned seat, which is, of course, right next to Cartman at the same table. Which sucks, because by this time of day I'm sick of fighting with him.

The teacher, Mr. Johnson, arrives and begins explaining what we're doing today. I keep zoning out - he has the kind of voice that puts you to sleep - but I pay enough attention to get the gist of it. We're doing a lab. Which means we have to partner up with the people at our table. Fatass and I actually _can _work together sometimes, so it's not as big a problem as you would think. Our classmates usually want us seperated because of our bickering, but we work well together as far as getting good grades goes, so Mr. J refuses to split us up. I guess it could be considered the right decision. Maybe.

As soon as we get the handout with the instructions on it, Cartman grabs it, skims the text, and tosses it off to the side. "Yeah, this is too hard for you."

"Fuck you!" I snap, grabbing the paper back quickly. "I can do it, I can do all of it." I nod to emphasize my certainty despite not having read the directions yet.

"Okay, do all of it then." He grins at me and leans back in his chair.

...Damnit. "I _will,_" I reply, determined not to give in to him. "And I'll make sure you get _no _credit for the work you didn't do." He just shrugs. He thinks he'll get away with this, but I won't let him. I'll get an A, and he'll get an F. Then I can laugh in his face. I stand up, grab the proper equipment, and stand up at the opposite side of the table from Fatass.

For the next several minutes, I'm busy working hard on doing all the jobs that were intended to be done by two people while Lardbutt fucking _sleeps. _Well, the joke's on him when I get my grade.

Suddenly my thoughts are interrupted, nearly causing me to drop the beaker in my hand. "Damn. You wouldn't be working nearly as hard if you weren't trying to beat me. I really motivate you."

I glare at him. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was asleep, for like ten minutes."

I grunt and go back to work. This time he's leaning forward in his chair and staring at me with a hand placed thoughtfully to his fat cheek. He makes soft "hmm" sounds every few seconds, which makes me uncomfortable, but I won't let him distract me.

...And that's when I realize he's right. He _does _motivate me. In a way, I need him around to push me forward. It works in reverse sometimes too. No matter how much we detest each other, we really do need each other. Then I think about how he's moving, and I feel sad. Jesus Christ, I can't believe I'm taking this so badly.

"You know something, Kyle?" Cartman asks me with a very sincere look on his face, staring right up into my eyes. I wonder if he's realized the same thing I did.

"What, Eric?" I ask, using his first name to show respect so he'll know I'll understand. But he seems to think I'm mocking him, instead, because he snorts. Maybe he doesn't like his name.

"I hate everything about you."

I pick up a book and throw it at him. It hits him square in the stomach. "I hate you too," I laugh.

He grins and wheezes, "Not as much... as I... hate you."

...I think I really am going to miss him.


End file.
